Zayd is reading “The Wind in the Willows” and here adds (from Ratty’s eyes) more rapturous devotion to the best season for a water rat: summer of course!

Ratty’s poem

The summer is bright, just like you my friend

O, summer tell us what flora you send

The purple loosestrife bright with spikes

Then come the willow herbs bright as a sunset cloud

The pageant of the river bay

So clear in the summer day

The fields are green, the animals happy

The caravans ready to go with ‘baccy

The river so clean

So nice and pristine

It is the river not the bay

Summer is the hot siesta of the year.

The Diary of Mole

I have gotten quite frustrated with Ratty. Even I, his dear loyal friend, have to admit that he’s been a little bit of an ignoramus this time. After all, did he or did he not let the foolish, carefree, yet kind Toad…. I am just dumbfounded at how this kind and benevolent animal (Ratty) had been fooled by the nitwit. But it is water under the bridge for me (for I don’t know if Mr. Badger feels the same as I do). He seems to have not taken it lightly that Toad has escaped.  Guess Toad’s going to do some rash and irresponsible actions that are probably, wait no, going to get him in trouble with the police. Well, I will tell you something. I am not going to bail that incompetent fool out no matter how many letters or sob stories he tells. Anyways, it is more trouble going to look for him.     

Day 2

As I wait for Ratty to finally be done chatting with his river comrades, it is blazing out here. Finally, Rattyemerges from his little hidey-hole with a depressed borderline sad look on his face.

I asked him why he had such a long face and what the matter was. Otter’s adventurous son Portly had run off somewhere and Otter had become hysterical. Ratty, being the good little chap he was, said he couldn’t bear to watch Otter sob so much that his Gucci throw rug was sopping wet. Therefore he was set on rescuing Portly before Otter breaks down. Of course, Ratty cranks that little mind of his and starts coming up with endless possibilities. Finally, he comes up with the answer that all of us should have seen. THE RIVER OF COURSE!

 Where else would Portly have gone! The river is the most fabulous and perfectly splendiferous for an otter to go. Well, we must go with haste for there is no time to lose. We quickly sped into Ratty’s house (almost knocking the door down) and found ourselves a nice and tidy boat. The boat was nice and well-structured but sadly it reeked of gherkins. As we set off into the river I saw Ratty. He was acting very oddly indeed. He was entranced by this music coming from out of nowhere. I thought that this was the absolute stupidest thing I have ever heard until I heard it as well. The sound of beautiful music filled my earsso much that I wanted to start singing. It was as if the whole forest came to life. The willowherb sings a deep harmonious tone.

The trees sway and dance along. The purple loosestrife sings the high notes. While I am enjoying this very song I notice an island erected from right out of the water. This was where the music was coming from and Ratty was sure of it. As we edged nearer to the island the music got louder. It filled my mind and took control over me “Ratty was tearing up at the sound of the music”. I walked onto the island and saw none other than Portly, Otter’s adventurous (and very cute) son snoozing and dozing away in the lap of an animal. Then I looked closer and realized it was no animal at all. It was a majestic figure. With a pointed chin and hooved feet why he looked magnificent. Then I looked at Ratty. Ratty was bowing in front of this creature and instructed me to do so as well. Ratty claimed that it was the demigod Pan or Himself. That is all I am writing in my journal for today because Ratty is now dozing off near the fire and I ought to do so as well (blows out the candle).